


Withdrawal Symptoms

by Macx



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-01
Updated: 2008-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark had had a spectacularly bad day... Tony/Steve fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Withdrawal Symptoms

TITLE: Withdrawal Symptoms  
Iron Man (movie) and comic-verse mix  
AUTHOR: Macx  
RATING: M  
PAIRING: Steve/Tony  
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money  
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):  
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...  
FEEDBACK: Loved

Tony had had a spectacularly bad morning.

It had started out with his coffee machine dying on him. He had stood in front of the hideously expensive, state-of-the-art machine and cursed it quite colorfully. Still no coffee. With his required morning coffee quota badly lacking, he had opened his emails with the Extremis – which had been a mistake. He had nearly had a yelling fit.

Idiots! Why had he hired Callahan anyway? The man was the chief engineer and supposed to know better, but he had overlooked the quite obvious design flaw for the VTOL engine the Airforce was getting for a healthy sum of money. Tony had written a scathing reply, sent back all designs and slammed them onto the man's virtual desk. He had added 'Engineering 101' out of spite.

Callahan would have a fit in return, probably demand an appointment or even just storm into his office, brandishing his precious designs, and Tony would have to listen to the asshole rant. The man couldn't accept when he made mistakes. He also couldn't accept that his boss was a genius in his own rights.

Damn, what had made him hire the man? And keep him this long?

Okay, so he was good, but he was also a bastard.

Tony drummed his fingers onto the glass table top. Callahan was too much like himself. That's why they clashed.

A cup of coffee appeared in his line of view and he glared at Pepper. "What took you so long?"

"You're welcome," the replied dryly.

Tony inhaled the hot, strong liquid, feeling his nerves settle as the bitter taste soothed his addiction.

"You received a call from Dr. Callahan," she said.

Tony checked his answering machine. Yes, there it was. He had apparently ignored it instinctively.

"Tell him he knows what to do. I already told him."

Pepper smiled thinly. "He's ready to argue that point."

"Let him. He'll bring down the whole Airforce with his designs."

Tony sent an email to the man while he spoke, detailing again – actually copying from his first mail – what was wrong with the design. If Callahan didn't correct it, Tony would and Callahan was off the design team.

Pepper just watched him curiously, then shook her head. "You have a lunch date at noon."

"Cancel."

"No."

Tony frowned at her. Pepper's face was set into her 'personal assistant will kick your ass' expression.

"You already cancelled twice. This is important, Tony."

He sighed. "All right. Where?"

"The Masa."

He rolled his eyes. The Masa was a very exclusive restaurant in the Times Warner Center. It was the most expensive one in New York, had only twenty-six seats, and no menu.

Tony got up and walked over to the selection of suits he kept for such uppity pretence dinners. Pepper shook her head at his first choice, got the deep black jacket, crisp white shirt, and charcoal tie with the single golden stripe across, and shooed him to change.

"I'm old enough to dress myself, Potts."

She raised her eyebrows and looked at the ensemble he ha chosen.

"What?" Tony asked, slightly piqued. "It's okay!"

"Only if you're colorblind."

"I've dressed myself for a very long time, unless…" he put a leer into it, " you want to dress me."

"Don't get your hopes up."

"There'd be more up than just my hopes."

She smiled patiently. "Your date is in twenty minutes. Get dressed. Happy is waiting."

With that she turned and left the office.

Tony smiled a little, then did just that.

Lunch wasn't spectacular; it was close to bad.

It was a matter of smiling, charming the lunch date, and trying not to fall face first into his food because of boredom. Keith Kolmar liked to hear himself talk. He also liked to pretend he was the most desirably bachelor on God's earth and had the tact of an anvil. He had the guts to actually try flirting with Tony. Not that he was Tony's type. Even if he hadn't been in a committed relationship with Steve Rogers – and his past dates would call him a liar and unable to commit – Kolmar wasn't even on his back-up list for a pleasant date, possibly more. Tony wouldn't have touched the man with a ten foot pole.

He simply didn't react to the blatantly obvious come-ons, though he laid on the charm a little more just to get the man to sign the papers they had come here to discuss. Kolmar was still rather pleased, even though he couldn't claim he had laid Tony Stark, and Tony was glad when the whole matter ended in a handshake and the empty promise to meet again sometime. He had people to take care of future business matters from now on and they would have to earn their keep. Tony would make sure he wouldn't ever meet Keith Kolmar in person again.

"My hero," Pepper commented dryly as he told her of the lunch date.

"Superhero," he teased.

"Don't overdo it. You got him to sign one contract, Tony."

"You want me to sell myself, too?" he asked sarcastically.

"My opinion never stopped you in the past."

"Harsh, Potts. Harsh. But my past ended when I got this," he gestured at the arc reactor underneath his shirt, well-covered no to give him away.

"If you really wanted to, you'd find a way around it," Pepper only said, face completely straight.

She took the signed papers and walked off.

Tony undid the tie and collapsed into his chair. Yes, maybe. She had a point. Had he wanted to, he would have found a kind of fake human skin cover or something. He might even have claimed it as a trophy. Everyone knew of Afghanistan and how he had been held hostage.

But he hadn't.

Huh.

Tony glanced at his watch. The day was only half over and he was already beyond the point of total misery.

When Callahan called again, Tony knew he was in hell.

"Don't take your mood out on me," Pepper told him when that particular fight was over. She had walked in on him pacing in front of his desk, yelling at his chief engineer via Extremis, and had just waited him out. "Call Steve. Or better yet: fly to DC and stay with him. No one here needs you."

Tony glared at her. "After the fiasco with Callahan? I am needed, Potts, because those airheads down in R&D seem to think VTOL was designed for shooting planes into the air and then crashing them!"

"Tony… call Steve."

"He's busy," he answered coolly.

"How do you know? Did you call?"

"What are you? My counselor?"

"I'm your personal assistant, Mr. Stark. As that I advise you to call Steve."

"I won't, so stop interfering."

Pepper's face was a mask of polite anger. Her eyes flashed and Tony was once again reminded that the hair color wasn't fake. Pepper Potts was a red-head and she was barely keeping control.

She gave him a cool look. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark."

Okay, frosty bordering on Arctic. He had clearly overstepped his boundaries when it came to Pepper. This meant making up to her in form of something nice. He would never dare not to appease his personal assistant. If Pepper ever quit, he would be hard pressed to find anyone just a fraction as competent, thick-skinned, stubborn and intelligent.

"That would be all Ms. Potts."

She left and Tony could have sworn she was leaving icicles behind.

Tony flipped through the Manolo Blahniks online, found a pair Pepper's size who had just come out and were completely 'in', and ordered a pair from the West 54th boutique. Delivery in an hour, to Pepper personally.

The incredibly bad day dragged on and Tony's mood went from really bad to abysmally worse.  
Pepper had sent him a brief mail, telling him thank you for the shoes, they fit perfectly, but she couldn't be bought with shoes. He had mailed back that he would never dream of buying her. She should consider them a gift, a sign of his appreciation for her hard work. The mail coming back had been quite… unprintable and had made him laugh.

It had been the highlight of his until then truly miserable day.

He finally fled the office and let Happy drive him home. He holed up in the workshop, put up the 'Do Not Disturb Or Else' sign – which almost all Avengers clearly respected after the last incident when someone had disturbed Tony, and went to work on the suit.

Working with the armor was soothing. Working with Jarvis was balm on his strained nerves – even if the AI was at his most sarcastic. Tony tested the new repulsors, went over ideas and designs with Jarvis, went back to the drawing board on a deflector he had been thinking about, and generally lost himself in the familiarity of the armor.

Pepper's words echoed in his mind.

He didn't miss Steve.

No way was he missing Steve.

The man had been gone for three days on some meet and greet thing Fury had commandeered him to attend. Captain America was supposed to help SHIELD recruit some manpower, as well as schmooze more money out of the Department of Defense. Fury had whisked Steve away, told the Avengers they had to make do without him for a while, and gone on his grand tour. Right now he was in Washington, where he would be for the next two days, then they'd come home.

No, Tony wasn't missing him. He wasn't dependent on Steve Rogers. He wouldn't call him like some homesick teenager and be happy to hear his voice. He had done fine without him.

 _Yeah, right_ , part of his brain sneered. _You did fantastic. Just face it. You're a sap and you want him back._

Tony slept in the workshop because this was where he spent most of his time and fell asleep. He didn't sleep there because he missed the second person in his bed; Steve. He had had 'persons' in his bed before, all kinds of them. Hopeful women, the occasional man, the giggly party girls with the great bodies and the less than stellar IQ, even one or two potential serious partnerships. Nothing had worked out. Steve had worked. Steve was still working after nearly a year. It was frightening and amazing in one.

He found himself dozing on the couch for the same reason. He didn't avoid the other Avengers, even if Peter claimed he was. He had overheard the younger man saying so over breakfast when he had just gotten himself coffee.

Steve wasn't his reason for living.

\- Tony had survived until the day he had met Steve Rogers quite well. But it had been survival, not living.

Steve wasn't his anchor.

\- Steve was the most grounded person Tony had ever met. In the beginning he had caught himself looking at Steve's feet, wondering if he also grew roots.

Steve was his lover.

\- And it was great and wonderful and he relaxed around him and he could be himself and there was this ease between them and…

Tony stopped his train of thought, scrubbing a hand over his face. It left dark smears.

Steve Rogers had become part of his life so quickly and completely, it should be scary.

It was and it wasn't. It was because it was like an addiction and Tony knew he wouldn't be able to kick it. It wasn't because Steve was so right for him, completed something inside him that had been curled up in a corner like a wounded animal. Steve was balm on his soul. He was… Steve.

Tony groaned and let his head fall onto his arms on the table.

"I'm such a sap!" he groaned.

"I beg your pardon?" Jarvis asked.

Another groan. "I'm not some fourteen year old girl!"

Jarvis was silent for a very long second, showing how perplexed the AI was. "Definitely not, sir. According to my scans you're neither fourteen, nor a girl."

Tony grimaced. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"Glad to be of assistance. May I ask what brought that on, sir?"

"Just feeling pathetic."

"I see."

Tony sighed. Not that the AI could actually understand, but Jarvis knew how to make it sound like he did.

"May I ask why, sir?"

He let his head sink down again. He was a fourteen year old girl. He missed Steve.

"You could call him," Jarvis offered.

Tony realized he had spoken out loud. Great!

"I'm not that desperate!" Stark snapped.

"I didn't imply that, sir," was the reserved answer.

"You did!"

"I would never dare to, sir."

"I'm not that pathetic, okay? I don't have to call my… my…. I don't have to call Steve and make small talk and kissy noises!" Tony went on, anger rising. "He'll be back in two days! I'm not some kind of weepy girl!"

"Of course not, sir."

Tony slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself up, anger rising. He wasn't the woman in this relationship. He wasn't clingy and needy. He was stronger than that. Needing someone wasn't a weakness and it didn't make him soft. It was just…

The others missed Steve, too. He knew it. They just missed him as a team leader and comrade and friend. None of them were sleeping with Steve Rogers – they better not! – and Tony couldn't go to any of them to talk about his feeling of loneliness. He had never confessed to any weakness before. Not when he had been simply a very rich bastard with an alcohol problem; not when he had had an arc reactor keeping him alive; not when the Extremis had changed him so completely, but had kept the reactor in place. Tony had never talked with anyone before Steve, and Steve now knew him better than even Rhodey or Pepper.

"Fucking hell!" he hissed.

Without thinking he reached out with the Extremis to call his armor, the underarmor already flowing out of his skin. He tore off his work clothes and exhaled in relief when the weight of the armor closed around him. The HUD lit up, the status a perfect 100 , and without further thoughts he powered up the propulsion system.

"If anyone calls, I'm unavailable," he growled.

"I'll let them know, sir," Jarvis answered calmly.

Iron Man shot out of the mansion's basement workshop, straight into the sky. He didn't care where he went, as long as he could go high and fast, working off his frustration.

Steve came home late in the evening. The return had taken longer than expected since Senator Quimby had delayed them. Fury had snarled and growled something under his breath, chewing on his cigar until it was a wet mess, but at least the whole promotion tour had helped. Steve was glad to be finally home. As much as he was patriotic and would do everything for his country, even hold recruitment speeches for SHIELD, shake hands with senators and make nice with potential money givers, there was a limit.

It had been reached.

The mansion was mostly silent. Peter was busy grading papers, MJ was watching a movie and apparently studying the lead actress, and Luke Cage was dozing on the second couch. Of Aunt May there was no sign, so he suspected she was in her room.

"Steve!" MJ had seen him first and had jumped up.

Steve found himself with an armful of redhead.

"I'm so glad you're home!"

She hugged him tightly.

"Uh, yeah, hi… It's good to be home. Uhm, MJ, are you okay?"

"I am now."

Peter was looking at him with a clear expression of relief. "Man, am I glad to see you here at last."

Hopefully the other wouldn't want to hug him, too, because he looked like it. What was going on here?

"Something happen?" Steve asked.

He had kept himself up to date on Avengers matters, but there had been nothing grand happening. Spider-Man had saved several people out of a burning building, but no Avengers mission had come up.

"Tony happened," Luke rumbled without opening his eyes.

Steve felt alarm run through him. "What did he do?"

"Let's say we're all glad you're home and if you're looking for him, try his usual haunts. You might want to duck the low-flying welders, metal parts, curses and death glares."

"What?"

MJ shot Luke a dark look. "What Luke wants to say is that Tony's been kind of… moody in the past few days. We tried to get him to call you or even go to Washington, but he refused."

"Oh."

Steve was a little speechless. Tony had… missed him? And wait a minute! The others had tried to get Tony to call him? That meant…

"Hey, we tried to appease him with coffee, new gadgets, liquid caffeine feeds, and Dr. Strange even offered to magick him to Washington," Peter piped up. "No chance. He's prickly as hell and just as short-tempered. Especially after the coffee machine went up in smoke two days ago right around his breakfast time. I think he went through early morning withdrawal, made two of his head scientists cry before nine a.m., and buried himself in his workshop ever since."

"Uh…"

"Pepper's keeping him caffeinated. I think she's the only one who can face his wrath. He was close to getting into a fight with Logan over something I can't remember what it was," Peter added.

Steve felt his head reeling.

"Go, Cap," Luke said, cracking an eye open. "You'll never hear me say this again, but you're good for him. I don't know how long you two have had this… little arrangement, but I guess not long enough for him to last through that kind of withdrawal."

He smirked knowingly.

Steve realized all of a sudden that his friends knew exactly about the nature of his and Tony's relationship. They hadn't really consciously decided to keep it a secret, but Tony was very private when it came to himself, so Steve had taken his lead from there.

"Go." MJ gave him a little push.

Steve went, still a little off-kilter from the knowledge that a) they knew, b) Tony was apparently a mess, c) they knew and… approved? and d)… Tony truly had missed him.

A smile played over his lips.

The workshop was the usual chaos. Controlled chaos, true, because Tony knew exactly where what was.

The armor was hanging from iron chains, the upper part completely assembled and hooked up to the maintenance unit. The lower part was in pieces on the work bench. Both boots were standing upright, spread apart like Tony was doing an autopsy, and the holographic design table showed the parts in clear lines. Tony was fiddling with something small on one boot. Dummy had rolled over, lending a helping… arm.

Steve used his entrance code to gain entrance and walked around a stack of metal parts that he couldn't identify.

Tony was… well, not a mess, but he was a bit worse for wear. The goatee and mustache now had three-day-beard company, the white t-shirt was stained with grime, oil and sweat, the work pants looked like they had seen better days. Steve felt his eyes fall on the smooth skin and clearly defined muscles of Tony's arms, running along the sleek lines of his back, the well-defined ass…

Geez, okay, he had missed the man as well! He was already looking him up! He was how old? Twenty-seven? He should be out of the hormone driven teenager years craze by now. Then again, he was looking at Tony Stark. The man was pure sex on legs.

"Hey, Tony," he said casually, trying to dial down the desire he felt flaring inside him.

The reaction from Stark was far from casual. Tony froze, then straightened so abruptly Steve thought he heard his spine crack, and turned. Dark eyes widened and Steve could read the sleepless nights in them. The rings under his eyes that looked more like bruises were another giveaway.

"You're back," Tony stated, voice hoarse.

"Yeah. Finally. Took a bit longer."

Steve closed the distance as Tony rose from his chair. "Miss me?"

He didn't know why that had slipped out, but it had, and it had an immediate reaction. Steve found himself with an armful of Tony, kissing the living daylights out of him. The scrape of stubble, the smell of Tony, the strength in the deceptively slender frame… he had missed it, no doubt about it.

"Okay," he whispered when they parted, feeling slightly breathless. "That answers that question."

"It was a stupid question," Tony rasped.

Steve framed the unshaven face and wiped at a smear with his thumb. "You look terrible."

"I'll have you know, I always look cool and suave. Read the papers."

"Unless you haven't shaved or showered in three days."

"I showered this morning."

"I'll take your word for it."

Tony drew him into another kiss, less desperate this time, and Steve shivered at the intensity. Tony's fingers curled around the waist band of his jeans and held on tight.

"How about we take this upstairs? And you shower?" Steve suggested after they had parted.

"Here goes my fantasy of making out in the workshop."

"We can talk about that fantasy another time," Steve replied, tugging Tony toward the stairs. "Shower first."

"Yes, Mom."

Tony had fallen asleep. More or less throughout kissing Steve. They had been making out on the bed when Stark had surrendered to his exhaustion.

Steve watched the man next to him with a fond smile, fingers playing through the longish hair, wrapping strands around his fingers and letting them slide through again. Tony's face was more relaxed in sleep than it was when he had seen him in the workshop. The harsh lines put there from next to no sleep, as well as the dark rings under his eyes, would need time to fade.

They hadn't talked.

Maybe they wouldn't.

Tony was, after all, a private man when it came to his emotions. He opened up sometimes, and then it all poured out, almost smothering Steve with the intensity of Tony's feelings.

They were in their room. Actually, it was Tony's room, Tony's bed, but Steve had spent so much time here in the past year, it was theirs. His own room was all but abandoned, a token room at best. Now that the others knew – and had apparently known for some time, at least Peter and MJ had – Steve thought about giving up on his room completely and simply getting all his stuff in here.

Tony sighed in his sleep and Steve smiled, running gentle caresses over the man's neck and shoulder blades. Tony had thrown an arm over Steve's waist, his head was halfway between his shoulder and his chest, and he seemed to be comfortable. Steve was for sure.

So Tony had missed him. Enough to fall into the abusive pattern of little to no sleep, too much coffee, and working himself into the ground.

Steve knew he couldn't change Tony just because he loved him, just because he was Captain America, but he could give him a little nudge or push sometimes. He could help him in small ways, with just being here.

And he would.

Rogers traced a line of lean muscle through Tony's thin shirt. He had showered – alone – and he was clean. His hair was still damp and would probably look a little messed up later. Steve didn't mind. He liked the look. He wanted Tony out of his smart clothes, wanted to mess up the perfectly coiffed hair, wanted to feel a little stubble next to the goatee. He grinned. His goal in life.

No one had disturbed them. The other Avengers had known to leave the two men alone, to let Tony catch up on sleep and Steve be with him. Should Fury or anyone else call, they would deal with it. Captain America was currently unavailable, except for Avengers emergencies.

Tony roused three hours later and Steve, who had dozed off, was woken by hands caressing his stomach underneath his t-shirt. He blinked his eyes open and met the mischievous ones of Tony Stark. Before he could say something, the other man kissed him, the hand sliding under the sweat pants' waist band.

Now there was a very clear come-on.

"No coffee?" Steve teased, lips moving against lips.

Tony smirked. "Morning sex is much better than coffee as a get-me-upper."

Rogers chuckled, feeling something else getting up, too. "Can I record this for future reference?"

"Hm, but I'd erase it. Got a reputation to lose."

Steve felt his brain pool in his groin as Tony leisurely stroked him. The kisses grew more sloppy.

"I think your reputation was proven again in the last few days. You scared the others."

Tony laughed, sounding breathless and more than a little aroused. Could be because Steve was by now using his knowledge of hot spots to drive the other man crazy.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

"Oh."

Steve wasn't sure whether this referred to the past week or the fact that he was now sliding his hand over a very prominent bulge. He went with the latter.

Pinning Tony down onto the mattress he pushed the t-shirt up, the pants down, and when he trailed wet kisses down the flat stomach to the prominent erection, Tony gave a deep groan of need and encouragement. Steve didn't need more. Tony pushed himself up on his elbows, watching him. Steve grinned up at his lover, then took the hardness into one hand and drew his tongue over the hot length.

Tony gave a hiss of appreciation. The move had caught him by surprise and his eyes dilated a little as Steve continued to use his tongue and lips to pay attention to him.

"Damn, Steve…" Stark groaned.

He decided to up the ante and closed his lips over the glistening head, suckling gently.

Tony gasped, hips twitching up, the dark eyes reflecting the growing need. Steve smiled to himself and paid undivided attention to what he was doing. He wasn't as skilled as his lover, who seemed to have mastered all forms of sexual entertainment, but he knew what he was doing, and he knew from the growing tension and soft encouragement that Tony was appreciating this very, very much.

"Close," Tony groaned. "Steve…"

He squeezed the hard length and fondled the balls, licking and suckling. His tongue flicked against the erection and had his lover moan loudly. Tony's feet pushed into the mattress as he cried out, coming suddenly, and Steve drew back. He licked off the few specks on his lips, but swallowing it all had never been his forte.

"Oh hell," Tony whispered. "Damn."

"Better than coffee?" Steve teased.

He had closed his hand around the deflating erection, playing with it, making Tony twitch. It was like gentle torture and when his lover groaned and batted at his hand, he pulled back, grinning. He kissed him instead, a move that was very much appreciated.

"I don't think you'll ever make it to the level of 'better than coffee'," Tony said breathlessly, hands already busy again on Steve's body, "but I'm willing to let you try again and again."

Steve grinned. "I'm up for the challenge."

Tony's hand found his hardness. "You sure are."

The blond rolled his eyes, but his reply was cut off when Tony tugged and twisted a little, making him groan. Damn, Stark was good. Really good.

Tony rolled them around, using Steve pliancy to his advantage. Normally Rogers, as Captain America, would have been able to wrestle Tony to the mattress again, though in a real fight the more slender man wasn't defenseless, even outside the armor. The Extremis had given him a lot more strength.

Pleasure ripped through him as Tony worked his magic with his mouth and lips and his throat, and Steve cried out, trying to remember what breathing was all about. It was hard. Tony was just that good. Steve lost all sense of reality as he cried out incoherently, release hitting him like a tidal wave. When he could think clearly again, panting harshly, he became aware of his lover placing a light kiss on his lips, a burning expression of sheer, sated pleasure on his features.

Steve wrapped his arms around him and kept Tony from getting up. The other man didn't put up much of a fight. He let himself sink down next to Steve, humming, sounding pleased.

"You look incredible when you come," Tony said softly when Steve remarked on that pleased expression.

He felt his face heat up. Tony grinned, but it was a soft grin, full of pleasure.

"You do." Tony rubbed a hand over Steve's chest. "Perfect."

Steve felt the arc reactor pressed against his side, a clear difference to the warm human skin, but it was so much Tony, he was so used to it, he couldn't imagine not feeling it.

"I'm not perfect," he argued without heat.

"Super-Soldier ring a bell?"

Steve sighed and rolled them around to look into Tony's eyes. The dark-haired man smiled, wrapped a hand around Steve's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

"You're perfect to me," Stark murmured.

"Same here."

He snorted a little. "Yeah, right."

Steve brushed a flat hand over the arc reactor and let his fingers play around the almost seamless edge. It was a weird feeling, but he had grown used to it quite quickly.

"You are. For me."

Tony chuckled and buried his face against Steve's neck. "We're two very messed up people, hm?"

"Talk about yourself, Stark. I'm perfectly fine."

"Right. Want me to count the issues you have?"

Steve gently bit one ear. "You'd win that contest."

"Sure. I always win." There was the old smugness again. "So… how about coffee now?"

Steve chuckled and reluctantly got up. Tony followed, looking a lot better than yesterday, but still in need of more rest. Steve would make sure he got it.

They showered – together this time and predictably it took a while. Steve hadn't been able to resist the temptation that was Tony Stark. He had slid into him with Tony flat against the cool tiles, groaning his approval and demanding more.

When they finally left their little haven, it was already past lunch time. The whole place looked empty.

"Jarvis? Anyone around?" Tony asked as he nursed his precious cup of coffee.

"Mrs. May Parker has left to go shopping," the AI told him calmly. "Mr. Cage is in the work-out room, Mr. Parker is at school, Mrs. Mary-Jane Parker had an audition…"

Tony waved one hand. "I don't want a head count, Jarvis."

"Very well, sir. There is no one currently in the mansion."

Tony refilled his mug and Steve could tell when he actively accessed the Extremis and linked himself into all systems that had run in the background. He knew Tony was always right in the middle of his wireless connection to all kinds of systems, was never alone in his head, so to speak, but he had learned to read the barely perceptible signs when he was actively accessing something or just listening to the hum in the background.

Tony had once tried to explain to him what it was like, but it was hard to imagine being in the middle of this data highway, everything running at lightspeed, and being able to match this speed. Extremis had given Tony an edge no one else understood.

"Pepper mailed me to stay home for today and let the company run without me for a day." He grimaced.

"She's right." Steve regarded him solemnly. "You need some time off. And it's not like you can't yell at your engineers from the comforts of your home."

Tony chuckled. "True." He stretched, the t-shirt riding up to reveal smooth stomach skin, then winked.

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips. He kicked back on the couch, watched Tony's mimicry as he went through mails and whatnot, and he finally picked up the discarded newspaper and read over the headlines. Some articles caught his attention and he smiled as he saw one of the photos Peter had shot.

He didn't care if Tony worked with the Extremis from at home. He didn't care if he spent the next hours berating scientists, taking part in meetings, bidding on some obscure item in an auction or on Ebay. It was just nice to be with Tony again, listen to his voice, see his smile, see the twinkle in the dark eyes, see the child-like happiness when something worked, and Steve would make sure Tony Stark didn't disappear into the workshop – hid in the workshop.

"So," Tony drawled, voice pure sex, "any plans?"

Steve knew that whatever plans he might have had, they had just gone out the window, down the drain, turned to dust. Considering what they had been replaced with… hell, he had no problems with spending the day in bed – or on various surfaces in the house.

From the looks of it, neither had Tony.


End file.
